Hey Daddy
by Neko Oni
Summary: malik's father is abusive. malik just wants his pain to end. he decided to fight back.


this fic was originally written when i was in 9th grade, i was 14.  I haven't changed a thing, except for replacing my oc with malik.  And, yes, this isn't one of my happier ficcies.  

DISCLAIMER: yugioh and all associatated characters don't belong to me.

SUMMARY;  malik's father has been abusing him for years, and malik decides to fight back.   marik isn't in this, nor is any of the other characters.  it focuses on malik and his father.

NOTES: the only thing i changed in this fic was i replaced my oc with malik.  other than that, everything is as it was when i wrote it in 9th grade.

WARNINGS: extreme angst.  alot of swearing/ cuss words.  alcohol.  physical violence and bloodshed.  death.  (and to think, this was written by me when i was 14!  proof that i've always been touched in the head :P)

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HEY DADDY, FUCK YOU!

(dedicated to fathers and stepdicks everywhere)

Thick, dark clouds filled the sky.  Moisture hung heavy in the air.  The stillness was occasionally broken by the low rumble of approaching thunder.  Raindrops ran down the grimy windows of the shabby, run down building.

Malik didn't notice the voices or the thick cigar and cigarette smoke that suffocated the dimly lit bar room.  He just sat at a corner table with his head in his hands, massaging his throbbing temples.  The scenes from the night before were fresh and vivid, consuming him with a brutle force.

He and Pa had gotten into another heated debate that had turned physically violent, as it so often did.  It had ended by him storming out the door.  And down to the hospital.  His breath came in short gasps; he covered his cheek and felt the stitches that ran from his cheekbone nearly to the corner of his mouth.  Only when he felt a wetness on his hand did he realize he was crying.  

Malik ran a palm over his face, wiping away his tears.  He grabbed his whiskey glass and halted before the fiery amber liquid entered his parted lips.  He had already drunk more than usual, enough to be slightly intoxicated.  Hastily, he spat the sordid spirits back into the glass which he slammed forcefully upon the table.  Pa's alcoholism was the base of all his problems, and here he was, acting like the very bastard who'd spawned him!

He raked a trembling hand through his short, thick blonde hair then violently stood up, knocking the chair over.  He stalked out the door; cold rain soaked his leather jacket and jeans with the torn knees.  Paying no heed, he jumped upon his Harley, revved the throttle, and felt it roar to life.  He sped down the road for a few miles before turning onto a side road then onto a dead end, dirt street.  Reluctantly, he stopped at the end, next to the last house.  Pa's house.

Malik slowly walked onto the porch as he swallowed the lump in his throat.  He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, telling himself he'd just march in, grab the rest of his things, and leave.  He opened his eyes and unlocked the door.

He entered warily, quietly shutting the door behind him.  He slipped through the cluttered living room, behind Pa's chair, and was almost to the steps when he accidentally kicked on of the scattered, crumpled beer cans.

Pa's snoring bulge jerked awake with a loud snort.  He blinked, saw Malik's frozen, wet form, and bellowed, "You're getting water all over the damned carpet!"

His body flinched as if physically struck.  "Since when do you care?"

"Don't talk back to me!"  

Malik attempted to go up the steps, but Pa grabbed him by his neck.  "I'm not finished with you yet."

"And I'm through with you!"  He snarled.  He didn't like where this was headed; it was all too familiar.  His heart beat wildly as he breathed in fitful wheezes.

Pa squeezed his throat, his drunken rage further roused by his outburst.  Malik couldn't breathe; in a panic, he scratched his cheek with his fingernails.  Pa cursed then flung him to the floor.  Malik held his throat, trying to regain his breath.

Pa towered over him with a maddened look in his glazed eyes.  "I'm your father.  You will obey me."

Fresh anger covered up his fear and pain, allowing him to rise on unsteady legs and glare at his bleeding father.  "I've no reason to."

"You will do as you are told." 

"FUCK YOU!"  Malik spat in his face.  Pa viciously back handed him across his wounded cheek.  He fell against the wall, breathing heavily.  Blood ran down his neck from his reopened cheek and nose.  He could taste it as it trickled into his mouth.  He closed his eyes then shook his head violently.  He couldn't take it anymore; he had to get out of this miserable hell hole!

He opened his eyes and stared straight into Pa's.  "Bastard."  He hissed and pushed past his bulky body and ran out the door.  He hopped upon his motorcycle and sped down the road, well over the speed limit.

After a while, he left the main road an pulled into an alley, parking outside of a crumbling, vine choked apartment building.  He staggered off and ran, stumbling, to his door.  He fumbled with his keys, which jingled as he frantically played with the stubborn lock.

A few drops of blood on his hand caused Malik to pause.  He was still bleeding from somewhere.  he numbly watched the bright red beads run down her hand, onto the rusted doorknob, then slid down the splintered wood.  He shook his head to bring himself out of his heady, alcohol influenced daze.

Suddenly, an urgent need to get inside, to shelter, seized control of him.  Once again, he jangled the keys, fighting the sticky lock.  He banged his body against the door until it finally gave way; he fell hard upon the worn wooden floor.

Malik lay panting for breath then climbed to his feet, using the wall for support.  In a sudden rush of anger, he slammed the door shut with a loud thud.  As quickly as it had come, it was gone, and he slumped against the heavy wood.

The world was spinning; he leaned into the solid oak and gazed at the mess about her.  Bloody streaks and handprints decorated the white wall and pink puddles dotted the floor.  His body, too, was soaked with blood and water, a little uncoordinated from the whiskey, and weak and trembling from the fight.

Malik was just as messed up on the inside as he was on the out.  He was unable to focus clearly; anger burned in his chest, warring with despair.  Through the turbulent sea of emotions, he found a saving numbness.  He clung to it and wrapped it around his aching heart until all he could feel was......nothing.

The numbness swallowed him; through the enveloping darkness, he dimly realized that he was sinking to the floor.  He was slipping into unconsciousness when a sharp banging on the door caused him to jerk awake and his head against the blood spattered wood.

Another bang caused Malik to jump away and emit a tiny screech.  He watched with wide, terror stricken lavender eyes as the door shook on its hinges from a great force. He was unable to scream from the fear constricting his throat.  His heart pounded fiercely as the door gave way.  It crashed to the floor with a bang, and there stood Pa!

He cried out and shrank back at the sight of him.  He was wet from the rain, reeked of cheap beer, drunker than hell, and ready to kill. The deep, pink scratch marks on his cheek were vivid and his glassy eyes glittered dangerously as he staggered into the doorway.

Malik fled into the kitchen, where Pa found him clutching a steak knife, face a mixture of fear and warning.  "Get out!"

"You're going to listen to me, boy."  Pa ended in a loud belch.  "Now, I've come here to teach you're worthless ass a lesson."  He started to approach.

"Stay away from me!"  He screamed and hurled the knife.  He grabbed a piece of waxed fruit from the counter behind his back; it hit Pa in the face.  Pa swayed, loosing his balance.  Malik smirked, but his triumph was short lived, for Pa soon righted himself.  He continued to throw anything with in reach at Pa, but after a short tussle, Pa had a hold of him.

Pa knocked the wind out of him. Malik grunted then bit him hard on the arm, drawing blood.  He loosened his grip with a curse. Malik landed a vicious punch in his face and another in his stomach.  Adrenaline pumping he was controlled by his anger and fear.  He continued to fight back, driven by some primal urge to cause Pa pain, as Pa had caused him.

Malik found another knife and tried to plunge it into Pa's body, but he blocked it.  Malik struck again, and the blade entered his stomach up to the handle.  His blood was a bright, ever spreading stain on his shirt.

Malik's hand fell to his side and he began to tremble.  Pa pulled the knife out; its dull blade glinted with his blood.  "You little bitch!" He snarled and lunged for him.

As Malik leapt past him, the knife sliced across his chest.  He cried out as his hands covered the new, profusely bleeding wound.  He ran out of the kitchen and into the small living room, tripping over a pile of unpacked books and magazines.  He managed to roll onto his back as Pa loomed over him.  "You'll listen to me!"  He roared, eyes dark with irrational anger.

A cold sweat broke out upon his copper skin, and his lavender pupils dilated with fear and fury.  Malik socked him hard with a loud curse and scrambled to his feet while Pa recovered form the blow.

He overturned a small coffee table and frantically yanked until a leg came off.  He looked at Pa's drunken, stumbling form and felt the pain caused by a dozen cuts, bruises, and fights.  The instant his eyes met Pa's, his heart chilled with ice.  His eyes were wide and frightened while Pa's were blazing and out of control.

Pa lunged forward; Malik swung the broken leg hard, hitting him in the head.  As he heard a sound like a melon bursting, he felt the knife tear into his flesh, piercing a lung.  Pa's body lay unmoving except for the blood seeping from a huge, open wound on his head and into the old, worn, and stained carpet.

Weak and sick, Malik fell to his knees.  He grasped the handle embedded in him and cried out as it slid out with a stream of blood.  He stared at the bloodied blade in his trembling hands then flung it across the room and away from him. 

Death surrounded Malik; Pa's bloody corpse, splotches of blood trailing the path of their fight, the knife which mocked him from a distance, and his own bleeding body.  The darkness suffocated him, but he fought it; he had to get away.  He staggered to his feet, clutching his wounded side.

Malik stumbled out the broken door and into the cold, pounding rain.  He was almost to his Harley when he tripped on a rock.  He was too weak to get up; all he could do was lie still, heart pounding in his aching head and blood gurgling in his mouth and nose.  Rain water ran over him, causing him to shiver.  The puddle in which he lay was steadily turning red as tears trickled from his glazing eyes.  Blackness swirled around him, easing the pain and fear.  As Malik gave into its enticing promise, he prayed that he'd never wake again.

owari 

(end)

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pretty disturbing, ne?  and the only thing i changed in this fic was i replaced the oc with malik.  that's all.  


End file.
